


Chance

by scioubeez



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Miscommunication, Missing Scene, Rejection, Sarcasm, porco is so smitten it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scioubeez/pseuds/scioubeez
Summary: There's no time, there's never time for anything.“You're still here,” he murmurs, his voice so deep it rumbles pleasantly loud even when he whispers.
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Porco Galliard
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86





	Chance

**Author's Note:**

> a few things:  
> 1- english isn't my first language so sorry if things sound awkward  
> 2- i'm horribly out of shape with writing so don't expect the next coming of mary shelley  
> 3- gallirei or bust  
> 4- manga spoilers so heads up anime onlies 
> 
> that's all

“Huh.”

Reiner's fingers are soft as they brush ever so slightly against Porco's, around the neck of the bottle: a lasting effect of Titan regeneration after having suffered particularly heavy damage, he muses, leaving the bottle in Reiner's hesitant grasp: his lips are still parted, a lone drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, like he never got used to having nightmares every night for more than ten years.

“What now,” inquiries Porco at Pieck's soft hum, his gaze planted on Reiner's fingers as they curl around the bottle, as if he wasn't sure what to do with it.

Pieck shifts somewhere behind Porco, the rustling of paper-like hospital sheets grating at his ears. “Nothing, carry on,” she almost sings, an amused quality to her voice. “I believe Reiner is waiting for an answer.”

He doesn't even look up when Pieck says his name: he keeps staring down at the bottle, like it's going to swallow him. Porco sneers at Reiner's lack of reaction: he must've taken a damn good beating if he's still so slow to do pretty much anything.

“They've taken them,” he murmurs then, as if he could hear Porco's thoughts. “Didn't they?”

Well, maybe not so slow. “More like they snuck on their airship.”

Reiner covers his face with a hand, resting the other on the bed, the sheets riding low on his hips as the weight of the bottle drags them down: Porco steals a quick glance at the way Reiner's stomach is sucked in, ragged breathing coming out of his mouth in short bursts. “Why...”

Porco clenches his teeth in frustration. “Where the hell were you anyway? You were with Falco, weren't you? What happened?”

“Pock,” chimes in Pieck, and he turns around to look at her questioningly. She's soft spoken, her lips unconsciously turning into a spontaneous little smile every now and then, but now her voice is stern, somewhat tired, as she interrupts him. “Maybe now is not the time, do you think?”

Now, if experience serves well, this is what will happen: Porco will, of course, click his tongue at Pieck's protectiveness; Reiner will take it, as always, silent and pliant, maybe blaming himself a bit more along the way, and Pieck will interrupt their silent confrontation with a carefree comment, salvaging what little is left of their strained relationship.

Except it doesn't happen: Reiner uncovers his face, handing the bottle back to Porco without a word. His gaze is trained on him, firm and resolute, something Porco has seen only during their shared missions.

There's a beat of silence in which, Porco is sure, Reiner should say something, anything: but his lips are sealed shut.

Their fingers brush again as Porco takes the bottle back, Reiner's skin now taut and firm.

There's a shift in their dynamics that Porco really doesn't like.

He finds himself staring at Reiner more often than necessary, eyebrows drawn together, studying him. Something is different, there's an echo of what Porco saw in his predecessor- in Ymir's memories, flickers and ghosts of a younger Reiner, so different from now.

What ticks him off is Reiner's reactions – because he _does_ react now, with a hint of a glare whenever Porco speaks out of turn, trying to get a rise out of him. Occasionally, he hums, a simple sound full of so much contempt that makes Porco want to punch him stupid. And there's a different quality to his silence, it's stilted, as if he were stopping just short of lashing out at Porco's snide remarks.

After digging for so long in his predecessor- in Ymir's memories, this version of Reiner still comes out as an anomaly. It's like nothing he's ever known or seen or remembered. Was it Eren Jaeger who sparked something in him? Did he grow a backbone only after being punched in the face so hard it blew his jaw off? Was it really all it took? He could have done it himself.

His hair is also growing longer, and maybe he's filling out his clothes a bit more nowadays.

In conclusion, Porco is severely irritated.

“It's his playing field now,” observes Pieck one late afternoon, as Porco rubs his eyes insistently after a grueling self-imposed training session. They're laying down in the middle of the court as they used to do when they were younger, just the two of them as the evening winds whistle gently at their ears. An afterthought: curfew is in less than an hour, they should probably get going soon.

“Reiner already infiltrated the island once, and he's lived there for years. We should listen to what he says.”

The image of little Reiner, useless and whiny and incompetent, keeps drifting further away from the current Reiner- impossibly tall and capable and smart and reliable, and Porco sighs, kicking the heels of his boots into the ground as he lays back on his elbows, curfew be damned.

“Pock,” Pieck tries again, this time effectively distracting him from his thoughts. He snorts, studying the outline of the buildings in the distance, most of them wrecked by Eren Jaeger's attack.

“Look what happened. We have to trust _him_ of all people, can you believe it...”

Pieck grants him a chuckle: she never takes sides with anyone, and Porco knows it, but he's glad she tries to play along. There's no heart in it, either: it's an automated answer to an equally automated burst of snark, something they should be trying to grow out of, but bad habits die hard.

There's hardly any point in trying to correct behaviours when you have such a short lifespan ahead, after all. It's something they all agree on.

“Things change, and all that,” she sighs then, and Porco shakes his head, as if it could help him clear his mind. He'd rather go on a mission with empty, useless thoughts rather than tormenting himself thinking of Reiner and Marcel and Ymir and whatever else still has to happen.

Ever since he inherited the Jaw Titan, time started to slow down, cruel and unforgiving. He starts to feel like he's lived for too long.

Reiner's eyes glow in the sunset, small freckles of dark amber scattered all over his iris. Porco looks away, nose scrunched up, and sits back down on the ground.

“You're still here,” he murmurs, his voice so deep it rumbles pleasantly loud even when he whispers, and Porco feels the ghost of a shiver sliding down his spine playfully. “Pieck's already gone home.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” is all he offers, taken aback at his own meekness.

A sigh, then Reiner drops down to sit beside Porco. He sits with crossed legs, just like he used to when they were little, and Porco even now wonders how can he sit like that without his feet going numb after a few minutes.

“Can I tell you something?” pipes up Reiner, his voice almost cracking with awkwardness, after a few minutes of silence during which both of them glared at the sun disappearing behind the wrecked houses. Porco shrugs, then remembers Reiner isn't looking at him; he hums, his tongue feeling suddenly too big for his mouth.

Taking that as a yes, Reiner keeps going. “The idea of going back to that island used to scare me... but now it almost feels like I can't wait to go.”

Porco would probably laugh if, a few days before, Reiner hadn't put his life on the line to save him. Probably.

The thought makes his head spin.

“You'll see your old friends again,” he spits then, words laced with venom and sarcasm in equal parts. And Reiner takes it so well: Porco bites his lip as he risks a side glance, meeting Reiner's strong profile, a hint of a smirk on his full lips.

“I wouldn't call them friends, you know...” not after what they've done to Liberio. Not after whatever happened on that island, the few glances Porco got through Ymir's scattered memories. That goes unspoken.

“Mortal enemies.”

“Well, there is someone like that, but even then it's too much...”

“Unpleasant acquaintances.”

Now Reiner snorts, and Porco wonders if his laugh is any different from when they were children, if it's the same loud, irritating sound or if it got deeper like his voice, calmer... and whatever the hell he'll think next. He's starting to hate the way he's thinking after the battle in Liberio.

“Was this... ah, hell. Was Ymir... you know. With you?”

Reiner blinks at least ten times before turning his head slowly, very, very slowly towards Porco. His eyebrows are raised in disbelief, and even Porco himself can't believe what he just asked.

“I'm- I'm only asking, because it's getting weird. It's weird, I've got... there's so many stupid thoughts I'm not really sure if it's all me, or it's her. And I think she got the hots for you. Am I wrong?”

There it is, Reiner's laugh: it's just like Porco imagined, it got a lot deeper with age, it's somewhat more subdued than the squeals he used to bark out as a child, he squeezes his eyes shut and he covers his face, and Porco is so grateful, he'll try to make the colour on his cheeks disappear in two seconds flat.

“Stop it, what the hell,” he grumbles, as Reiner's shoulders keep shaking, his laugh eventually dying out. “So she wasn't... nice. It's all me then, I'm going mad.”

“She had much better taste,” is all Reiner says, and Porco clears his throat, confused. “I'm surprised you haven't seen anything about her yet.”

Porco huffs. “Who cares. I'm too busy going mad.”

“How?” asks Reiner, still amused by Porco's question, and he turns to look at him, meeting his gaze: maybe, just maybe, wonders Porco, if they weren't _them_ , they could-

He stops before it's too late, he tears his gaze away from Reiner's eyes, from his lips, from his longer hair now falling on his forehead- he breathes out through his nose, standing up with stilted movements, as if he forgot how to move properly.

“I'm going now.”

Reiner doesn't answer as Porco walks away.

He wishes he did.

There are nine minutes left to midnight as Porco grabs Reiner's shoulders, his back slamming against the wall, their breaths twisting in the almost non-existent space between their mouths.

There's no time, there's never time for anything: Porco takes his chances, digs his nails in Reiner's coat, gaze roaming all over his features. Frustration and guilt and hate, they all bubble up in his throat, laced together by something he still doesn't know the name of, a feeling that makes him want to- he doesn't know. He'll probably never know if he doesn't act, fast.

Reiner breathes, he whispers, _what are you doing_ , so soft on his lips, so out of place: they're leaving in a few hours, not knowing if they'll ever return from the island, if they'll get a better chance to talk it out, to understand just what it is that draws Porco towards him, and Reiner's voice is so, so soft, so welcoming, it makes Porco clench his jaw and his breath hitch in his throat.

“I...” he starts, his voice actually breaking, the night lights of Liberio casting long, harsh shadows on their faces, and Porco is so scared it makes him sick to his stomach.

What does he even want to say?

_I never got to thank you._

_I should have inherited the Armored, not you._

_I don't want to go._

_I can't see Marcel's memories and it's killing me._

_I don't know what to say._

_I-_

“What,” repeats Reiner, breaking his derailing train of thoughts, so Porco decides he might as well never think again, standing on his toes and pushing his lips up against Reiner's.

It's nothing like he imagined, because he did: it's short, cold, not even a kiss. Reiner breaks it off almost immediately, eyes wide, searching frantically all over Porco's face for something, anything that could explain what he just did.

Porco himself wouldn't know where to look.

“I don't really know,” he exhales, his lips still tingling. Reiner doesn't stop looking at him, raking a hand through his hair, and Porco distantly thinks he might just try to kiss him again. “It's nothing, alright? Just forget it.”

Then he turns around, he escapes- a coward, Porco is a coward and nothing else: the Armored would have been the perfect fit, he muses to himself darkly.

The truth is, they were never allowed the time to understand each other, and there's a thought that rests in the back of Porco's mind as he starts walking: they'll never get another chance.

Again, Reiner doesn't call for him as Porco walks away.

And again, he wishes he did.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this... thing, whatever it is  
> have a good morning/afternoon/evening/night!!


End file.
